Of Eviction Notices And Last Year's Rent
by KRenee
Summary: The three of you have been charged with trespassing upon the land of Hueco Mundo, abusing the children of King Lucifer, and assuming a role of unauthorized power. Each of you will be expected to leave this realm, and pay rent for the past year you have been staying in Las Noches, along with compensation for the violent crimes you have committed. Pay up or suffer the consequences.
1. Prologue

"There's one more thing, brother," Tacitus' voice was slightly more subdued than usual as he gave his older "brother" the detailed report on Hell and it's sister realms. This particular tell indicated that something was wrong somewhere amongst the realms of Hell, and that Tacitus was betting he would be terribly unhappy about it. Lucifer downed the rest of his coffee – his favorite invention of man – and nodded, silently telling the white-haired man before him to continue.

"It would appear that there has been another breach in Hueco Mundo. An uh… I mean, three Shinigami from Soul Society have infiltrated Las Noches and established themselves as kings." Tacitus' face fell as he continued to read over the report, likely looking at a picture of evident mistreatment of the peasants, "They've been experimenting on the Hollow, and they've managed to create an army of Arrancar, the strongest of which have been collected into a group called 'the Espada.'"

"Swords," Lucifer shook his head irritably, looking mildly disgusted with the tasteless alias, "I bet they feel really creative for coming up with such a title. How long have they been there?"

"Almost a year. The Vasto Lorde that were in charge of watching over Las Noches and Hueco Mundo only recently came back… although only two of the six returned alive," the frown on the white-haired man's face deepened. "The reports have been sketchy and inconsistent at best – it seems they didn't make it here in very good condition… they're not expected to last through the next twenty-four hours."

Lucifer nodded again, reaching out a hand and taking the file from his assistant. He looked it over swiftly and stood up, organizing the stacks of papers on his desk and putting his quill back in its small inkpot. Tacitus retrieved the rest of Lucifer's professional attire from the nearby clothes rack, assisting the King of Hell in strapping the decorative (but useful if needed) sword to his hip.

"Are you going to go and take care of this right now?" Tacitus asked as he reached for his King's coat, unable to hide the desire to follow from his voice. Lucifer smiled slightly at the childishness of his younger "sibling," holding up a hand to stop him from getting the coat.

"Do you want to come with me? I'm not leaving right this second, though." Tacitus smiled hopefully, and Lucifer chuckled, "Well, grab your coat and sword. We'll go in fifteen minutes. I'll meet you by the gate."

Tacitus excused himself, heading off to his own chambers to put himself together for travel. Seeing the way they interact, anyone – mortal or immortal – would assume that they really were brothers. In fact, rumors had spread for a time that they were half-brothers. Entirely untrue; Lucifer had picked Tacitus up out of a dark corner a few hundred thousand years ago, and they had somehow become attached to one another. Tacitus was a fast learner and loyal to his savior, and Lucifer returned his good work with praise and lodgings. Tacitus never asked for anything more.

There was a knock on the door, and he looked up, "Come in." A young demoness that he recognized (however vaguely) from the legal offices across the way entered his study, a file at least half an inch thick tucked under her arm.

"Lord Tacitus informed us of the breach in Hueco Mundo and Las Noches," she explained smoothly, crossing the threshold and handing him the files, "Enclosed should be all the information needed to convict, as well as a warrant signed by Lady Lillith, Lord Hades, and Lord Iblis, giving permission to arrest and carry out the strongest penalty proportionate to the crime."

"Which is?" The King of Hell quirked an eyebrow as he flipped through the paperwork, looking for any missed names while adding his own to the trios of signatures at the end of each page. He was going to have to arrange a date and time so he could properly treat Tacitus to something sweet as thanks for his mindfulness. Especially since he knew how deeply the man cared for the residents of Hell that catered to the others under Lucifer's personal watch. To hear that four of the six Vasto Lorde – all of whom had been close friends of his assistant – were likely dead was a genuine tragedy.

"Damnation, accompanied by a Termination of Rights," the demoness replied to his question after a brief pause as she recalled the information, a slight smile gracing her features, and she recited, "Our Liege, King Lucifer of Hell, may strip the detainees of their privileges as living entities and damn them to whichever torment he sees fit until the end of time."

Lucifer nodded, seeing the last few pages, "Eviction notices?"

The young woman nodded, tilting her head forward in a respectful apology, "The warrants have been signed, but there are still proceedings. The trespassers need to be presented with the notice of their eviction and other crimes and given two week window to either leave Hueco Mundo and return to Soul Society or pay you for the past-due rent, as well as compensation for the trouble and torment they've caused. It's really all fine print and red tape."

"Are you sure they won't just pay up or leave?"

"Of course," she answered him almost too easily, "I beg your pardon, my King, but those who reach the plains of Hueco Mundo or Soul Society don't believe in your existence. Without any cherubs or brimstone, they assume that there is neither God nor Devil. These mortals will probably assume the peasants are playing a joke on them."

If she hadn't known better, this demoness might've been concerned about insulting Lucifer with such frank terms, but evidently they'd met before (even if he didn't remember her name). Instead, she smirked knowingly, and bowed slightly to excuse herself.

"If that is all, I must return to the Legal Services Bureau."

He nodded in acknowledgment, and she left. He had one minute and forty-six seconds before Tacitus would officially be "kept waiting" at the gate. He couldn't allow that to happen – that would be bad manners, and he _was_ the King of Hell, after all. He stood up, grabbing his coat and swinging it over his shoulders as he exited his study.


	2. The Sentence

**_2._**

It hadn't been very long. Probably not even half an hour since Ulquiorra had left her in this room. It was beginning to darken outside, shadows casting over the room.

Inoue Orihime stared at the elegant white dress that had been prepared for her. She hadn't even changed yet, simply standing in the light that shone through the window. What did Aizen Sousuke have planned for her? Would it be painful or emotionally scarring? Would it be an act of treason to comply? She was terrified. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she _could_ do. She didn't want Kurosaki to get hurt trying to rescue her, but at the same time, she selfishly wished for her knight in shining armor to come for her.

At that very moment, the sound of someone knocking on the door to the room caused Orihime to start and turned sharply.

She hesitated, unsure of who – or _what_ – was waiting for permission to enter. Was it Ulquiorra? He was frightening in his own right, but he was also simplistic and brief in his interactions with her. He didn't seem threatening in an immediate way. He didn't seem sadistic… but Orihime had seen the others. That tall one with the thin body who had been leering at her chest; that violent, bulky one she had remembered from her previous encounter in that clearing, Yammy… What if one of them was behind that door?

She swallowed her heart, which had jumped clear into her throat, and tentatively said, "C-come in."

The knob turned, and the door was pushed open. An unfamiliar man entered the room, another standing just outside the door with a distant, irritable expression. She didn't see any portion of the signature Hollow mask to mark them as Arrancar. She stood still, unsure of what to expect.

The man in her door way didn't come any closer to her. He seemed to understand that she was scared (it was probably rather obvious), and a slight smile graced his pale features, his bright blue eyes betraying a hint of genuine apology.

"My Lady," he turned slightly, lifting his arm and offering it to her, "Would you be so kind as to come with us?"

She stiffened; sure, his tone was kind and gentle, but this experience of kidnapping had put a serious dent in her trusting tendencies.

"Why?" Orihime asked, searching this strange man's eyes for something that she could rely on more solidly, even if it was only for a short amount of time. "What do you want with me?"

He seemed almost surprised at her implications, as if he felt offended by her suspicion. But he didn't appear angry, just smiled with slight exaggeration, as if to say that she was being silly, that she was worrying for no reason.

"We intend to take you home, Miss Inoue. That is all."

She hesitated then, not sure what to think. They were going to bring her home? That sounded like an easy lie to tell. But she couldn't feel any ill-intent from them. Orihime could usually tell when something was off about a person. She was willing to trust her gut this time, even if she ended up regretting it later. She was willing to take this chance if it meant she _might_ get to go home, and Kurosaki _might_ be spared a lot of pain.

Orihime nodded slowly, and approached the man. She took his arm as he offered, and allowed him to lead her down the white-washed walls of Las Noches.

.

It had mostly been a rapid exchange of insults and curses. He didn't even entirely recall what had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He had simply pulled his sword and rushed at Ulquiorra, who had simultaneously held up a hand to start charging a defensive and frustrated cero. The Cuarta Espada had screwed up _royally_; Inoue Orihime was gone with the wind, no trace of her left behind. She wasn't even back on the mortal plain – Ichimaru had done the honors of checking for them before this meeting had even been called.

All in all, Grimmjow had never had such a perfect opportunity to lay into the Fourth properly. He'd be full ready to test his renewed power on his colleague, only stopping because _Tousen_ had stepped between them, sending them both flying backwards into the huge nearby pillars. The blind man had stood over Grimmjow, cursing his existence and deeming him worthy of the destruction he seemed to crave as he raised his sword. He wouldn't deny it now; the blue-haired man had flinched a little when he saw the sword coming down, knowing that raising Pantera to defend himself would be pointless.

Now, he stood in the shadow of a stranger with black hair and a menacing aura. Tousen's blade was held at bay by this newcomer's index finger, his clothing exuding a foreign but familiar aura of power and authority. He didn't recognize this man, but he'd just been saved by him.

"That's quite enough," his voice was low and smooth, dark and threatening as he slowly started to push Tousen's Zanpakuto back. It didn't seem to be requiring _any_ effort of his part.

Aizen was watching the scene unfold, somewhere between bewildered, amazed, and furious. Ichimaru's smile was gone, lips parted in surprise. A single bead of sweat slid down Tousen's neck, highlighting the pounding in his carotid that gave away his nervousness. Grimmjow wanted to laugh; he'd hated all three of these bastards since the minute he'd seen them, and now being able to watch them resisting the urge to cower in fear… it was a great feeling. He didn't feel particularly threatened by this man. It might've been the fact that he'd just been saved by him, but it might've also been that he somehow knew that anger wasn't directed at him. Or, it appeared, any other Arrancar in the room. This fury was specially gift-wrapped for the three Shinigami that had taken over.

Tousen abruptly jumped back, putting several yards of space between himself and this strange man. Slowly and carefully, Grimmjow started to pick himself up off the floor, looking around the room. The other Espada were just as confused as he was, though the quality of confusion was different in Stark, Halibel, and Ulquiorra. It was strange, and he couldn't place it. Whatever.

"Who the heck're you?" he grunted, suspicious and not ready to spare anyone (whether they'd saved him or not) from his temper. Ulquiorra made a soft sound that almost came across like he'd been trying to say "shut _up_," in a less dignified and more desperate tone of voice. Grimmjow ignored him.

"You should watch your tone of voice, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," the stranger started walking away, towards the center of the room. The other Espada were clearing out of his way, each looking a different form of confused and maybe a little scared (assuming that Nnoitra had enough brain cells to _feel_ fear). There was a loud crackling of energy in the air, and a Garganta opened a few feet away from where the stranger had stopped.

Another man, this one with white hair, stepped out. He landed softly on the floor, leaning over his companion's shoulder and muttering something to him. A curt nod, and the white-haired one stepped back to stand by.

"Three of you already know who I am, as we've met previously during one of my rare excursions through the realms," the stranger stated apathetically, pulling a pair of white silk gloves out of his pockets and putting them on. "Your two companions who escaped from Hueco Mundo and came to tell us what had happened here, are dead. You Shinigami might know them as Anectem Merquise and Osalo Rindonit. They died in the hospital three hours ago."

Aizen was watching them carefully, obviously expecting some sudden act of violence, while Tousen stood with his body stiff in guard, waiting. Ichimaru still wasn't smiling, though the surprise on his face was gone, replaced with thoughtfulness, maybe even a morbid curiosity.

"I am Lucifer Morningstar," the black-haired man stated, and Grimmjow's eyes widened. When he looked around the room, he saw that everyone else had a similar expression, save for Stark, Halibel, and Ulquiorra. They obviously knew something. _What?_ "King of Hell and all her sister realms."

At that, Aizen chuckled, opening his mouth to say something smart and insulting, but Lucifer didn't give him a chance, "Sosuke Aizen, Kaname Tousen, Gin Ichimaru; as a result of your heinous crimes," there was a ripple of what might've been disbelief, but could also have been laughter, "I am hereby ordering that you remove yourself from the plain that is Hueco Mundo, and pay the dues owed as legal fees."

Lucifer paused, a slight smile gracing his features as he took in the bemusement and unyielding smirk on Aizen's face, "I suppose I should also tell you that you needn't worry about Miss Inoue, for I am tending to her needs and plan to return her home." Tousen opened his mouth, ready to spew forth all kind of condemnation, but Lucifer held up a hand, silencing him. It was odd, how that worked, considering that Tousen couldn't _see_ and all.

"There will be time for questions after we have fully informed you of the situation. Tacitus, if you would."

The white-haired man stepped forward, pulling a piece of yellowing parchment out of the thick folder he was carrying. He cleared his throat, glancing around the room briefly, and started to read:

"Beginning upon the end of this hour, now documented to be the hour of vesper, Sosuke Aizen, Gin Ichimaru, and Kaname Tousen will have _exactly_ two weeks to either leave Hueco Mundo and return to Soul Society and pay the estimated compensatory fine for trespassing, the pain and suffering they have caused the residents of Hueco Mundo, or suffer damnation at the hands out our King, Lucifer Morningstar. The accumulated fine totals one hundred and fifty thousand, seven hundred and seventy-five pure souls, not yet raised, damned, or otherwise tarnished by any immortal beings of any realm.

"Please note that what is currently an estimated fine may rise or fall based on the reports the Legal Services Bureau of Hell receives. Once the amount is reviewed and signed by the three Lords and our King, the sentencing statement you receive at the end of this informal hearing will be altered to accommodate the new total. The final amount will be changed no later than the third day of the aforementioned two weeks, at no later than the hour of prime.

"Let it be known that your crimes warrant the utmost punishment available to Hell and her sister realms. King Lucifer will be given authorization to both terminate all rights that you have as living entities, as well as damn you to whichever realm he sees fit, where you will suffer an eternity of pain, unless you take the necessary action to clear yourself – that is, return to Soul Society."

The silence that followed was short of deafening. Half of them weren't sure whether to laugh or not, the other half were stock-still and knew this whole thing was serious business. Grimmjow was somewhere in between – he could tell this was serious business, but he also wanted to laugh because he knew getting evicted by the King of Hell was a rather large kink in Aizen's master plan. This day was getting better and better.

"So, you're the _King_ of Hell? Hueco Mundo included?" Aizen finally asked, the question both mocking and sour in tone. Lucifer raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, scowling darkly.

"If no one has any _real_ questions, I need to return to my office so I can start making preparations to lock the gates to the mortal realm and send Miss Inoue back home," the King informed, "I will be taking Coyote Stark, Halibel Tier, and Ulquiorra Schiffer with me."

"Huh?" Yammy grunted loudly, "Whatcha need 'em for?" He seemed almost indignant – Ulquiorra was the only one who was willing to put up with Yammy's unfathomable stupidity without getting violent. The big oaf practically considered himself Ulquiorra's B-F-F, which was a strange concept all by itself – Ulquiorra? With friends_!_?

Tacitus answered for his King, "Mr. Schiffer, Mr. Stark, and Ms. Tier were trusted with watching over Hueco Mundo, along with four others, two of whom are dead and one of which is missing. They are both a liability to the Throne and in danger if we leave them here."

Stark, Ulquiorra, and Halibel had already stepped over to their King, understanding the situation easily. Aizen's eyes narrowed, watching the three and their obvious, natural instinct to obey this guy who had just strolled in and claimed to be the Devil.

"Mr. Aizen," Lucifer's tone was level, but it held an icy, dangerous undertone. It would've been less threatening for him to have just held a knife to Aizen's throat, "I will tell you only once; if you kill any more Hollow – Arrancar or not – I will have all three of you arrested immediately and kept in holding until your sentence expires." Grimmjow felt chills run up his spine at the words themselves more than the tone of voice. It hadn't occurred to him until just now, but Aizen killing them all in a fit of anger was probably entirely possible. He always seemed rather calm, but he'd never been challenged quite like _this_. "I am not going to sit around idly and allow you to kill any more of my children because things aren't going your way. You should've stayed where you belong in the realms of Heaven."

Aizen didn't get a chance to say anything in response to that. With a snap of his fingers, a large black shadow opened up above Lucifer, widening to accommodate all its passengers. It suddenly descended upon them, blackness enveloping the five of them and swirling around briefly. A moment later, the darkness dissipated and they were gone.

There was a tense silence, and he heard Aizen's voice like a shattering glass in a theatre.

"It would appear that there is a… discussion to be had."


	3. The Arrest

**_3._**

Tacitus had left her in what appeared to be someone's office. It was warm in there, the color scheme of dark wood and red carpeting only making the place homier. It wasn't daunting or nerve-wracking to be in there. It didn't even have the same "you're in trouble" atmosphere as the principal's office in school. She felt comfortable and safe, despite the fact that she'd just been formally introduced to the King of Hell and his secretary.

She was completely underdressed for this.

When the door to the office opened suddenly, she instinctively stood up from the armchair facing the desk and turned to see who had come in. She paled when she saw Ulquiorra and his companions, but stopped herself from panicking at the sight of Lucifer and Tacitus.

Lucifer spotted Inoue immediately, and approached her with a slight, gracious smile, "I apologize if it is any inconvenience, but it's going to be a little while longer before I can take you home." He faltered slightly, and Inoue wished she could wipe the disappointment from her eyes. She wanted to go home. Sure, Lucifer was probably the most hospitable being she'd ever encountered, but she missed Kurosaki, Sado, and Ishida; she missed the food she made for herself at home, she missed the smell of her home, of her bed...

Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, and she bowed her head and wiped her eyes."It shouldn't be too much longer, Miss Inoue," Lucifer's tone was gentle and promising, "I am sorry for this wait, I am sure you are tired of all this drama." Inoue hiccupped, a slight, thankful smile gracing her features. Lucifer smiled at her, his gaze reassuring. Inoue sniffled and nodded, sitting back down on the armchair and taking in a shaky breath.

Satisfied with her evident relaxing, Lucifer turned his gaze to Tacitus, "I need you to contact Florence immediately. She was sent to retrieve Miss Gingerback, and she hasn't checked in yet." Tacitus bowed slightly and excused himself from the room immediately.

"Mr. Stark, you are already familiar with the Legal Bureau, correct?" The man in question blinked, looking surprised with the sudden addressing. He nodded slowly, and Lucifer continued, "The three of you need to go there and make a statement. Ask for Albert; he's handling the sentencing details."

With a silent chorus of nods, the three Arrancar bowed and took their leave.

She watched mutely as Lucifer walked around his desk and tapped the wood briefly before turning towards the bookshelf behind the large piece of furniture. He glided his fingers over the spines of the books for a moment before he evidently found what he was looking for and pulled it from the shelf. It was a thick, dusty, leather-bound tomb that he carefully placed on his desk and flipped open as he sat down.

Lucifer flipped to a specific part of the heavy book, tracing his pale fingers across the lines of foreign words. He looked like he was deep in thought, concentrating and calculating whatever he was reading about. She sank back into the comfortable chair, getting her emotions under control and working on steadying her hiccupping breaths.

.

"So, do any of you care to explain what exactly is going on here?"

No one wanted to answer Aizen's simple question. It was a little ridiculous, but they were all incredibly tense and perhaps a bit nervous (even Nnoitra, surprisingly enough). The Espada and their Fracción were glancing around at each other, uncertain about what they should do or say.

Everyone except Grimmjow, that is.

"Ain't it kind of obvious?" Aizen's eyes slid over to the blue-haired Sixth, who was lounging in one of the chairs at the long table. He was the only relatively calm one out of everyone present. "Ya' pissed off the King of Hell, and now you're gonna pay for it. Gotta admit, I don't envy you guys for a second."

Tousen opened his mouth to speak, but Aizen cut him off, "So, you believe this?"

"Damn straight," Grimmjow snorted, "I mean, he only deflected Tousen's zanpakuto with a finger. He'd probably lay all your asses out and not even break a sweat."

Aizen leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, where he was flanked by his two lieutenants.

"You'd do well to learn your place, _Grimmjow._" Tousen growled threateningly. At this, Grimmjow laughed outright.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" The Espada shot back heatedly, "You guys just waltzed in here and decided on your own that you were gonna be Hueco Mundo's new groove! If anyone needs to learn their place in the food chain, it's definitely _you_ guys."

Grimmjow was surprised that he saw the movement quickly enough to defend himself. Sure, he was still practically gutted vertically, but he wasn't cut entirely in half like he was sure the Shinigami had been intending. He stumbled backwards, hitting the floor hard and spitting up a mouthful of blood. He glowered at Tousen, but a mocking smirk grew into a grin on his face.

"If you're so curious as to what's goin' on," he spat out more blood, "Why don'tcha just kill me? At the very least, it'll be saving the rest of us some drama when you get locked up by the _Devil_."

Surprisingly, Nnoitra snorted at that, and when Aizen looked over at him, he grinned, "He's got a point, y'know. You'd be best off if ya' retreated back to yer hometown, right? 'Least you wouldn't get gutted for the rest of eternity by the King, ne?"

Barragan nodded in some kind of disapproving approval at the argument being presented by the two least favorite Arrancar of the entire "army." Szayelaporro brushed his hair out of his face, smiling devilishly, "Although, if you return to Soul Society, you'll surely be gutted anyway - just not for an eternity."

Aizen chuckled softly, a sound that turned into a light-hearted, genuine laugh. There was a pause that rang through the large room as he calmed himself. Zoommari tensed to Grimmjow's right as he tried to help his colleague to his feet. Grimmjow's legs kept buckling underneath him, and he was suddenly struck with how deep and painful this wound was. If it'd been horizontal, his organs would probably be splattered all over the floor.

"I feel that perhaps the lot of you are merely tired of our presence," Aizen remarked, his tone casual and amused, "And are willing to latch on to any hope of expunging us."

Tousen's lips were twitching up towards a smile - he was obviously pleased with the verdict that he seemed to be predicting. Aizen stood up slowly, stepping around the table to Tousen's side, only a few feet away from Grimmjow. "I suppose Grimmjow was right in the end; if we're curious, why don't we just kill one of you and see what happens?"

Zoommari stiffened, pulling away from Grimmjow instinctively. Grimmjow wasn't even offended; it was a natural survival instinct that he was more than familiar with - staying out of the line of fire. Grimmjow's knees immediately gave out and hit the floor. His hand came out to steady him, and he wished that Pantera was closer than fifty feet away. He raised his head to look at the two Shinigami hovering over him, and clenched his fist. Mentally, he was sending prayer after prayer straight to Hell, _hey, could really use a hand right about now. Aizen's about to kill me, and, well, you promised._

Tousen made to move, but Aizen placed a hand on the blind man's arm, telling him to wait.

"I think I'd like to do this one myself," the look on Aizen's face was completely different from the usual collected, almost amused expression that he generally wore. Now, it was laced with malice and sadism, those brown eyes cold as ice. Grimmjow shrank back slightly, watching Aizen draw his zanpakuto.

He shut his eyes, anticipating a mortal wound that wouldn't kill him immediately; Aizen was furious, so there was no way he'd take the merciful route. There was a shout - a vibrant, beautifully colored curse word - "motherfucker!" - and then silence. It was eerie, how quiet it suddenly was. No chuckling from Aizen, no justice-related snarling from Tousen, not even a peep out of Ichimaru. Nothing.

Slowly, Grimmjow (who was strangely _not_ dead) opened his eyes. He felt two separate pairs of hands grab him, hauling him to his feet. He looked over, suddenly feeling sick, dazed, and on the verge of passing out. Nnoitra had an arm looped around his shoulder, supporting most of his weight with a grim expression on his face as he tugged at Grimmjow's jacket, pulling it away from the sticky blood smeared across his chest and stomach. He heard soft mutterings of that mad scientist - Szayelaporro was checking his injury, muttering something about needing immediate care.

He didn't know what had happened, and it was starting to bother him a little. He looked towards where he was reasonably sure Aizen had been a moment ago, only to find an unfamiliar woman standing there, facing away from him. Grimmjow blinked, suddenly realizing that he couldn't see Aizen _or_ Tousen over her shoulders. He heard a groan and turned his head. Vertigo washed over him, closely followed by nausea. Finally, he spotted them; Aizen and Tousen, clear on the other side of the room, pinned to the wall by an unseen force. Ichimaru was standing right where he'd originally been, completely still and eyes wide in shock. He looked a little frightened, actually.

"Who?" Grimmjow's eyes were half-lidded, and his face was drawn with pain. Nnoitra muttered something to Szayelaporro, who nodded in reply and continue poking around Grimmjow's wound.

"The King warned you," the woman snarled, "And you chose not to listen to him. I will be sure to have a hand in your personal, eternal torment. Goodbye." She raised her hand, and, with a flick of her wrist, the two Shinigami she had pinned were suddenly engulfed in a black cloud. A moment later, the darkness dissipated, and Aizen and Tousen were gone.

Without another thought about it, the woman turned around to face Grimmjow, stepping closer and gently pushing Szayelaporro away, "Let me see," she muttered, crouching down and peering at the wound. She grimaced, expression darkening with anger, "This isn't going to heal nicely - he must've pushed some of his reiatsu into it." She reached out and brushed her dainty fingers against the edge of the wound, which made Grimmjow wince and pull back. He groaned, barely conscious but wishing he was out cold. "Sorry, honey," the woman cooed, "Don't worry, we'll get you patched right up."

She straightened up, glancing over at Ichimaru. Her gaze froze over faster than Antarctica when the wind was blowing, "Ichimaru Gin, you'll be coming with me now, thank you."

Ichimaru swallowed hard, looking uncertain about whether he was going to be slaughtered or not. The woman gave him a curt nod, and he tentatively moved to join her near Grimmjow.

"Are you going take him to that hospital?" Szayelaporro asked, looking up at her, "He's already lost a lot of blood..."

The woman nodded in agreement, "Nnoitra, since you're already carrying him, would you care to join me? We'll go straight to the hospital, where I'll drop the two of you off and take Mr. Ichimaru with me to another holding area."

Grimmjow was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his extremities were almost completely numb. He made a soft, pained noise (some would call it a whimper, Grimmjow would call it a lie), his legs begging to be released from the weight of his body. Everything hurt, and burned, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Sure, m'lady," Nnoitra replied, his voice full of mirth. She chuckled in reply to that, snapping her fingers and summoning a dark portal, "Gonna keep 'im separate from his homies?"

Her voice sounded like she was smirking, and he thought he heard her snap her fingers again. "Maybe."

Grimmjow wasn't sure when exactly he lost consciousness, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. The pain faded away to a static background ache, and he accepted the darkness with open arms.

.

With Inoue (finally) returned home, and the four Espada he had hijacked safely on their way back to Hueco Mundo, Lucifer was finally able to let out the heavy, tired sigh he'd been holding in for a few hours. He signed off on the last of the documents on his desk, and put his quill back in its inkpot, leaning back in his chair and stretching uninhibitedly. Tacitus had gone off to monitor Hell, and make sure everything was alright despite the current disarray in Hueco Mundo.

There was a harsh knock on his door, and he looked up in time to see Lillith walk in, a dark look in her eyes. Lucifer's brow furrowed; she was angry. Something must've happened in Purgatory or...

"What happened?"

"Mr. Aizen and Mr. Tousen have been detained," she said, her temper still burning with indignation (she probably would've had them both thrown to the Pit if she had her way), "They attempted to kill Grimmjow. We won't know if they succeeded for another few hours."

Lucifer stood up quickly, walking around his desk, "What do you mean by that?"

"They wounded him severely. He's in surgery right now, in Purgatory's hospital," she replied, "I came to let you know about that, but also to ask you about Ichimaru Gin."

"Yes," Lucifer nodded understandingly, "Where is he?"

"In holding," she told him, frowning deeply, "Lucifer, I read his file. We need to contact King Yajova."

He reached up a hand and ran it through his hair, tired and worn and completely _not_ in the mood to deal with his older brother. But he didn't have much of a choice at this point.

"I know," he admitted begrudgingly, "I will put in a call as soon as Grimmjow is out of surgery. Please keep up with that."

Lillith nodded, smiling briefly, "I will keep you posted," she promised. With that, she bowed just slightly and excused herself from his office. Lucifer groaned, leaning back on the edge of his desk.

_Dear Mother,_ he asked in exasperation, _what would it take to persuade Yajova to keep his bloody spirits in check?_


	4. The Recovery

**_4._**

It took a grueling amount of effort to find some form of control over his body. He felt weak and tired, and he didn't like it. He was surprised to find that the wound he'd sustained from Tousen didn't hurt as acutely as it had been the last time he was awake. As his muddled brain began to clear further, Grimmjow picked up on a soft beeping sound. It was rhythmic, and seemed to be in sync with the pulse of his soul. His eyelids fluttered, but he couldn't make them open. He was incredibly tired, and sore, and he absolutely did _not_ feel like consciousness.

He heard a door slide open to his right, a series of unfamiliar voices moving closer to where he was laying. Warmth spread over his chest and abdomen, especially heating up the area of his wound. It didn't hurt, though. In fact, it was a soothing, comfortable heat. When it faded away, he immediately missed it.

"He's healing well," a mildly authoritative voice spoke softly; "We can probably send him home late this afternoon, if not sooner."

"Good," was the reply from a voice he was sure he knew, but couldn't place. Silence befell the room again, save for a single set of exiting footsteps. One of them had left. The other was writing something down – Grimmjow could hear the scratching of a tired pen against paper. Excruciatingly slowly, he opened his eyes, looking blearily around the room. The man standing over him wore a white lab coat with scrubs underneath – some kind of doctor, obviously. The room he lay in was definitely some kind of hospital room, but Las Noches didn't have a hospital.

"You're awake?" The doctor asked, "How do you feel?"

Grimmjow parted his dry, cracked lips and struggled to keep his eye open, "Tir…" his voice died, throat to dry to sustain sound. He swallowed hard and tried again, "I'm tired," he croaked. "And cold."

The doctor smiled slightly, walking over to something large and metal. Grimmjow watched as the doctor pulled a blanket out of the metal oven-box-looking thing, and draped it over him. It was pre-warmed, and he let out a soft sigh of relish and closed his eyes again.

"The fatigue is due to the pain medication we have you on," The doctor explained, "You're body is fighting down particles of spiritual energy in your wound that don't belong to you."

"How long… was I out?" He couldn't help his curiosity, even though he could feel himself losing consciousness.

"About thirty-six hours."

"That…" he was perfectly willing to succumb to sleep again, no longer even trying to keep himself awake, "Th's long… time…"

.

"I'm not going to have this conversation over the phone," Lucifer finally snarled into the receiver, the patience reservoirs specifically for Yajova finally coming to an end, "Either you come down here, or I will be more than happy to bring-…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and silently counting to ten as he listened to his brother being pointlessly indignant.

The King of Heaven was, among other things, megalomaniacal. This simply meant that everything in the celestial food chain was beneath him. He didn't have time to deal with his rabid human souls, or he didn't feel like it was his responsibility to keep his realms in check. Nothing anyone ever did was good enough for him, and if Lucifer just _happened_ to mess something up, Yajova would hold it over his head for _eons_. The guy was the most disagreeable, unforgiving, self-centered bastard that Lucifer had ever encountered.

"I will see you tomorrow, then." He didn't wait for a reply, simply slamming the receiver back onto the phone. To think humans considered the man to be understanding and merciful. The Devil lowered his head into his hands, taking several deep, stabilizing breaths. He looked up when the door opened, watching Tacitus enter the room with a tray of coffee and pastries. Lucifer smiled gratefully as Tacitus set the tray down, a pleasant expression on his face.

"Everything alright?"

He chuckled tiredly, "Yajova will be coming down tomorrow afternoon to discuss the fate of our detainees." He explained, "In the meantime, I want you to ensure that Mr. Ichimaru's needs are tended to."

"Absolutely," Tacitus replied, "Before I go, I thought you should be made aware that Grimmjow has been released from the hospital, and is being escorted to the Legal Bureau to make a statement."

Lucifer perked up at that, "He's been released? How is he?"

His white-haired assistant pulled a medical file out of a pocket in space and glanced it over briefly, likely to refresh his memory, "He's doing well, so far. Mr. Tousen's reiatsu did not sit well in his system; it did a lot of damage to his energy's circulatory system, specifically in his abdominal region. He's going to have to be monitored for a few weeks, but the doctor says he should be fine."

The King nodded, "Good, good… Tacitus, I'd like to see him before he leaves. Can you make sure they send him over here after they're done with him?"

"I will let them know."

With that, Tacitus bowed slightly and excused himself from the room.

.

"Hello?" Grimmjow peered into the study uncertainly; glancing over his shoulder for the escort he'd been provided. No sign of him. God damn it.

"Come in, Grimmjow." He stiffened slightly at the sound of that voice, but didn't let his mild nervousness deter him. He wasn't sure why, but he had the strangest feeling that he was about to get yelled at.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him carefully. In all and perfect honesty, he had expected something more… medieval in appearance. His brain had constructed something dark and almost dank, with stone walls and silver metal, perhaps a black, scorched desk or something. Whenever he'd heard the words "Devil," he'd been gifted with the image of someone with red skin, goat-legs, and horns coming out of his head. This whole experience had taught him otherwise, but it was still a bit of a surprise to see the little things that made the biggest difference in how he saw Lucifer.

There were bookshelves lining all four walls, with a gated, carefully contained fireplace against the wall to his left. There floor was carpeted a deep, rich red, and everything else seemed to be themed for warmth – dark (but not too dark) cherry wood replaced the stone he'd imagine; gold accents highlighted where Grimmjow would've expected a dark, ugly silver; the knick-knacks on Lucifer's desk spoke of a being with patience, dignity… Grimmjow had never seen or met anyone who came close to Lucifer's level. Lucifer's confidence wasn't superficial, or based on his level of power over those beneath him. No, the Devil's confidence was deeper than that. Grimmjow could only imagine the kind of thoughts that were calculated behind those scarlet eyes, the kind of things that had to be considered carefully by the King of Hell.

He had only met one of the Lords of Hell besides Lucifer, and that had been Lady Lillith. The two were _nothing_ alike. She exuded a motherly instinct towards those under her rule, which included the Hollow. She'd shown the darkest side of motherhood when Aizen had tried to kill him, but that still didn't compare to Lucifer's deadly calm demeanor when he was straight up threatening Aizen's life.

"You… wanted to see me?" The blue-haired Espada's eyes were coasting around the room, undeniably amazed at the sheer magnitude of things he'd been wrong about in just the past couple of days.

Lucifer's lips curled into an interesting kind of smile, and Grimmjow caught sight of it. He couldn't help but shoot the Devil a grin of his own, which succeeded in easing the tension when Lucifer snorted uninhibitedly.

"Yes, I did. Have a seat." He indicated the comfortable looking armchairs in front of his desk. Grimmjow stepped over to them, unable to contain his light, amused chuckle as he took a seat.

"Something amusing you?" Lucifer asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. Perhaps he was trying to get a feel for who exactly the Sexta Espada of Aizen's infallible army was. It was a good question to ask, he had to admit. Especially since Grimmjow didn't know who he was half the time either.

"Oh, hah," he laughed, this time a little less reserved, "I just… well, you know how people picture you when they haven't met you, right?" Lucifer nodded slowly, "I'm just laughing at how totally off everyone is. I mean, c'mon, you don't even have horns, let alone red skin and goat legs."

Lucifer stared at him for a long time, eyes wide in a comical kind of surprise, before he burst out laughing. It was a rather amazing sight, the King of Hell bracing himself on his desk, his demeanor completely altered by his unrepressed display of laughter.

Grimmjow couldn't help but grin at his King. Some part of him, after seeing the guy all dressed up in slacks and a fancy coat, had expected Lucifer to be one of those prim and proper gentlemen who didn't laugh, didn't smile, didn't really have a sense of humor, and definitely didn't allow for joking around. This was reassuring to know; it meant that the King wasn't some far away, out-of-reach being that he couldn't stand to be in a room with.

Once Lucifer had successfully calmed himself, clearing his throat and straightening his tie, he looked up at Grimmjow again with a genuine smile on his face. It was warmer than he was expecting, that was for sure. It took him off guard for a moment, and he wondered briefly if he was blushing as he carefully diverted his gaze to one of the mobile knick-knacks.

"I think I needed that," Lucifer admitted, still chuckling.

"Alright, now that I've gotten the giggles out of you," Grimmjow stated with a smirk, "What's up?"

The Devil nodded minutely, "Ah, yes. Grimmjow, there's going to be a court hearing for Mr. Aizen and Mr. Tousen. I'm not sure on the date yet, but as you've received the brunt of their abuse, I'd like to have you called to the witness stand. There will be a Defendant Lawyer intending to try and lessen their sentence – I doubt they'll succeed, but the more evidence I have against them, the better."

Grimmjow blinked, surprised. Him? A witness? Well, he _had_ received 'the brunt' of the abuse from Aizen and Tousen, and he supposed he could be considered a reliable source. Slowly, he nodded – wasn't like he had a choice, right?

"Uh, no problem?"

Lucifer nodded in reply, "Good, good. Before I send you on your way, I want to ask you about Gin Ichimaru's behavior as one of Aizen's cohorts. Was he ever violent towards any of you?"

Grimmjow snorted, "No," he grumbled, "Just annoying. Since I don't go around hiding my Hollow Hole like pretty much everyone else, he used to walk up behind me and stick his hand through it like a bitch. _God_ I hate him. No offense to… your… brother? I guess."

"I doubt he bothers himself with such things anymore. Alright, thank you for stopping by Grimmjow. Devlin is waiting outside; he'll take you back home."

The Sexta Espada nodded, "Okay," he stood up, flashing a grin, "See ya' around, I guess."

The Devil nodded at him as he exited the room, that now-familiar smile sticking to his expression. Grimmjow had never considered himself particularly likeable. Sure, Nnoitra and he seemed to get along sometimes, even though the Quinta had a tendency to get violent at him if he mentioned Neliel, or got in the way of him and a good fight (i.e. Kurosaki Ichigo). He had once had his followers (they were all dead now, courtesy of Kurosaki Ichigo and his friends), who seemed to practically idolize him, even though he had done his poor best to make them leave him alone most of the time.

But still, he didn't consider himself a likeable person. He considered himself, among other things, an asshole with a morbid sense of humor and a few too many destructive habits. Not to mention his issues with authority (Stark had once commented on the high prevalence of Oppositional Defiant Disorder among Arrancar).

And yet, it seemed like he and Lucifer had hit it off pretty well. He hoped that he encountered the King of Hell again. Maybe they could drink booze and just kind of hang.

It was an impossible dream, all things considered, but hey, stranger things had happened.

Sitting in the back of a chariot with Devlin taking him back to Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow's fingers tapped against the stitches that spanned across his torso. They reached from his collar bone to his hip, holding together the long, jagged wound that didn't want to heal. It stung when he touched it, and the pressure left a burning sensation that ran deep even when he removed his hand. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as when he'd first sustained it, though.

The doctor – Raphael – had told him to refrain from battle, and to tell Halibel, Ulquiorra, and Stark about the still-healing wound. At the very least, they could keep an eye on Nnoitra and make sure the guy didn't assault Grimmjow for doing things that bothered him mildly.

He wasn't sure if he was glad to finally be going back to Hueco Mundo or not. On the one hand, there _were_ a couple of folks there that he kind of missed. On the other hand, there was Ulquiorra.

_Well,_ he thought absently, _At least Aizen won't be there to stop me from punching that midget._


End file.
